


Merchandise

by Vinvalen



Series: Event Horizon [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinvalen/pseuds/Vinvalen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into Reno's life as he became a Turk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merchandise

If there was anything Tseng truly despised, it was the monthly trips below plate to oversee Don Corneo's auctions.  
  
Those whose lives were bartered here were the ones who had fallen from favor, those who were aging, those who simply didn't earn their keep. The last refuge of already broken people torn away as soon as their feet touched the block. The ultimate end for the ones who did not sell was to simply be tossed onto the street to fend for themselves as best they could.  
  
Tseng took his customary place within the shadows at the back of the room. The lights, such as they were, were kept purposely dim lest the flaws of the merchandise show too clearly under stronger illumination. Here in this shabby corner was the only place in the old warehouse where he could have an effective line of sight upon all exits, his subordinates placed as guards beside each doorway and window.  
  
Tseng's chosen position also afforded him the private pleasure of standing an arm's length behind a man who was clearly made nervous by the Turk's presence. A second level player, his stable filled with Corneo's castoffs, Tseng had been letting this one slowly run out of rope. He knew the protection money paid to Shinra too often fell short of what was actually due. This in itself was not of concern to the Turk, other than as an extension of the priorities of his superiors. If they decided to stop playing with their prey, then a convenient lesson was staged to remind others further down the food chain of their place- and hence, their priorities. Tseng's personal repugnance for the target involved his known sadism toward those who were forced to work for him; many of which bore permanent disfigurement as a final reminder to the rest. Missing ears, fingers, blinded eyes or branding were not uncommon results of his displeasure.   
  
It amused Tseng to watch his target squirm, sweating through his expensive suit while trying without success to catch a glance over his shoulder. It further amused him when the man became uncomfortable enough to attempt to leave the proceedings early- much to Don Corneo's displeasure. Tseng quickly disabused him of the thought, catching him before he could get away and ushering him back to his seat with an iron grip at his elbow.  
  
What further amused Tseng was the Turk stipulation that all bidders were assigned to specific seats; a mandatory placement which never altered from one auction to the next. Therefore, this man who wished so fervently to be anywhere else in the building rather than where he sat was pinned as surely as if his feet had been nailed to the floor. The mental picture this presented was a delightful prospect, one the Turk promised to fulfill to his own satisfaction when the time came to deliver ShinRa justice.  
  
Tseng moved from time to time through the evening, shifting just enough to capture the man's attention, simply for the perverse satisfaction of watching his target flinch.  
  
The Turk's game continued though the evening; relieving the distaste of his assignment until Tseng's attention was suddenly captured by a struggling, defiant form two of Corneo's enforcers were hauling onto the block.   
  
Fiery red hair spiked in all directions as the boy fought like a Bandersnatch, even though he was shackled hand and foot. Someone had stuffed a gag between his snarling teeth, probably in the interest of self-preservation. Brilliant aquamarine eyes glared at the audience before him, his chin held high with pride though he wore nothing beyond the pale porcelain of his skin.  
  
A beauty he was -such long-limbed grace and physical promise would normally have made him a prize- but it was all too obvious from his attitude why he had found himself in his current predicament. He refused to be broken. Tseng wondered for a brief moment what circumstances had led to the redhead finding himself here.  
  
Taken by a sudden inspiration, Tseng leaned over his target's shoulder, almost allowing himself a chuckle when the man violently startled. He spoke a single, terse command.  
  
"Bid."  
  
The man swallowed hard, paling before he gave a jerky nod.  
  
The Turk straightened to his original position just in time to see the redheaded boy go completely still in apparent defeat. He remained so for several long moments, just enough to feel the hands restraining him loosen. Then in a blur of motion, he head-butted the nose of Corneo's enforcer closest to him; Tseng could hear the crack of bone from where he stood as the goon's nose flattened in a spray of blood. The redhead's bound hands came up behind him almost to his shoulder blades and a cocked elbow found its way to his other captor's throat. Both staggered back, one cursing, the other choking.  
  
The boy sprang backward as far as his bonds allowed, his bare feet catching balance like a cat on the very edge of the block. He was laughing through his gag, thoroughly enjoying the damage he'd just inflicted.  
  
His triumph didn't last long. Where there had been two guarding him before, now there were four dragging him back into place; a merciless hand in his hair forcing his head back to face the bidders once more.   
  
Catlike blue-green eyes swept the crown with disdain; he merely sported a few more bruises than he had before. That brilliant gaze slowly scanned and memorized each one until his attention found and focused upon Tseng, remaining locked there. Behind the gag, the Turk saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirking smile.  Trained to notice such things, Tseng knew the redheaded little menace couldn't have been more than fourteen years old.  
  
The bidding began.   
  
Any other observer might have thought there would be no interest in having such a viper in their nest. They would have been right.  
  
After a long, tense silence, the man Tseng had told to bid finally did so, but not before risking a final glance to be certain the Turk hadn't changed his mind. A glance from icy black eyes reinforced the original command and his target nervously opened the bid.  
  
"100 Gil."  
  
The auctioneer appeared grateful to have received even that amount and would have brought the gavel down immediately if not for Tseng's subtle signal.   
  
"500 Gil," the auctioneer confirmed, shock evident upon his face.  
  
Another subtle prod reminded the man sitting before the Turk to bid again.  
  
"Six hundred."  
  
Tseng upped it. Only a small amount of his attention was now dedicated to enjoying his reluctant bidder's increasing discomfort. The rest was weighing the ratcheting tension in the oversized room, the knowledge that any one of the attending audience could have easily found themselves in the same position as the Turk’s chosen victim. Tseng allowed himself the ghost of a smile. He suspected a number of accounts would find themselves brought current before the next month’s auction rolled around.  
  
"Twenty five hundred."  
  
"Twenty-five-fifty," the target signaled in agitation. If he'd thought to get away with minimal expense, that notion had come crashing down around him.  
  
"Five thousand," the Turk signaled.  
  
"Fifty-one hundred." Tseng almost smirked. So his target was still trying to circumvent his untenable position, was he?  
  
"Fifteen thousand."  
  
"Fifteen-one," the auctioneer droned.  
  
"Twenty five thousand," Tseng ordered, sparing another glance to the 'merchandise'. The redhead had at first appeared confused, but his smirk soon faded, replaced by apprehension as he realized the identity of the second bidder.   
  
"Twenty-six hundred," came the counter bid.  
  
"Fifty thousand," Tseng immediately responded, enjoying how his target paled; he knew full well he'd soon be 'reimbursing' the Turk for his little lapses.  
  
It was therefore a long moment before the target responded, wiping his face with a handkerchief before he croaked the bid aloud.  
  
"Fifty thousand, one hundred."  
  
"Sixty thousand," the Turk signaled.  
  
"Sixty thousand, one hundred," Tseng's target all but croaked.  
  
Tseng surveyed the crowd, sitting silent and tense in their places, not daring to interfere. Never before had such a thing happened, that a Turk would do anything other than provide an element of cold menace to their perverse and tawdry peddling of human beings. Never before had they wondered if the evening would end with them facing death at the end of a Turk weapon. Don Corneo's beady eyes darted nervously about, wondering where he had finally crossed the line far enough to bring the wrath of Shinra down upon his head, and resolved to bring his own accounts current before the next day’s sun went down.  
  
Tseng calculated that the money with which his target was about to part company should come close to satisfying the amount he'd secretly withheld from ShinRa, and Corneo would know better than to expect payment from the Turks. Satisfied, he signaled Rude, who gave no indication of having noticed the movement. The Wutaian however, knew such was not the case. As soon as payment was made for the redhead, the target would be escorted in full view of everyone to a side door. Three days later, his body would be found in the alley behind his own establishment. That the body should also be disfigured in the same manner of which he had been so fond of tormenting his former ‘employees’ would be merely coincidental…  
  
"Going once…going twice."  
  
A breath-stealing pause, and the gavel came down.  
  
"Sold." The auctioneer stepped away from his place, relief coldly apparent on his pale features.  
  
Only when Tseng stood before his purchase was the redheaded kid quiet; surprised at the Turk's signal to Corneo's henchman for the removal of his shackles and gag, a task accomplished with alacrity.  Blinking owlishly, he faced the Wutaian with trepidation, visibly shivering until the latter removed his own jacket and draped it over his thin shoulders. Tseng didn't miss the spark of gratitude in the blue-green gaze, though he remained silent.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
Startled that he would even be asked because no one else ever had, it took a moment before the kid formulated an answer.  
  
"Re-Reno," the kid replied, his voice scratchy and dry from the gag.  
  
Tseng immediately snapped his attention to those who had removed the shackles. "Get Reno some clothing. And something to drink." It was not a request. He idly watched his bidder counting out the gil for Reno’s purchase into Rude’s waiting briefcase. When he made a show of losing count, Rude immediately corrected him in that low, rumbling, menacing tone only he was truly capable of.  The other occupants of the room had attempted to slip away without even reclaiming the weapons they’d been relieved of upon entering, but the waiting doorway guards quickly disabused them of the idea. The former bidders hovered near one another, but unwilling to speak even in whispers lest their watchers interpret such an action unfavorably and assume alliance where none existed-at least publicly.      
  
In a very few moments, Reno was standing in serviceable, if threadbare shirt and pants with a simple pair of woven sandals upon his feet. Tseng allowed him to keep his suit jacket, mindful of the cold outside. The very visible presence of the Turk's double shoulder holsters and what they held served to forestall any objections; especially from Corneo, who was visibly subdued as he watched the proceedings. Tseng indulged himself with a prolonged, expressionless scrutiny of the peddler in human misery; knowing the other would not dare drop his gaze.  
It was satisfying to watch the piece of shit sweat; especially as he was clearly reminded of who and what the Turks represented.   
  
"You will be hearing from us," Tseng stated, turning away. Let the fat freak make of that whatever he wished. Not all of the Turks' actions were sanctioned by the president, as Corneo was well aware. Tseng didn't think any of the assembled pimps' future bookkeeping would be presenting any embellishment, but the threat of a 'Turk audit' should keep them well in line…at least for awhile.  
  
Ushering Reno to the waiting car, Tseng allowed himself to be satisfied with a night's work well done. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deliver the target's money to Shinra, a task left to Rude's capable hands.   
"I trust that there shall be no cause to restrain you?" The Turk asked, holding Reno's gaze.  
  
Whatever he saw there brought a wary smile to the young man's face.

 

~*~*~*~

"Why'd ya buy me, Mister Turk?" The redhead finally asked on the way uptown. His gaze was fixed on the streets as they passed through neighborhoods which became ever more exclusive as they traveled. Tseng wondered if the kid had ever ridden in a car, such was his fascination. For that matter, he wondered if he'd ever seen the sky before this night, for his rapt attention followed the lights of planes taking off from Midgar's airport. When a helicopter passed low overhead, Tseng fully expected Reno to dive into the back seat just to be able to watch as it quickly disappeared. He didn't; though it seemed his head swiveled at an almost impossible angle as his bright eyes grew even wider.  
  
"Why do you think?" Tseng replied, just to see what the child would say, though he already had his suspicions.  
  
"I dunno…but I always heard the ShinRa was somebody ya don't wanna cross," the redhead replied distractedly, peering up and outward as if he hoped to spot another aircraft.  
  
"And those who told you so would be correct," the Turk replied.   
  
The narrow face turned to regard him warily. "Is it true the Turks get anything they want, do anything they want?"  
  
"Within reason," Tseng replied with a faint smile. "We are not of the same ilk as those to whom you have been subjected before." The smile threatened to become a chuckle as he watched the redhead puzzle out what he'd said.  
  
"Then ya ain't a bunch of pervs?" the child brazenly asked.  
  
"Hardly," Tseng replied, struggling not to smile.  
  
Reno merely regarded him narrowly, as if withholding judgment. Tseng was inordinately pleased by his obvious intelligence; resolving to discover what other surprises this remarkable child had hidden behind his shrewd aquamarine gaze.  
  
When asked how old he was, Reno couldn't tell him, but later questioning of the brothel's old midwife and a look into Corneo's property records seemed to indicate he was fourteen, though Tseng would have guessed him at no more than twelve due to his small stature and too-thin body.   
  
  
In the small hours of morning, after Reno was clean, warm, fed, and shown to the guestroom in Tseng and Rude's apartment, Tseng learned where the child's limits were.   
  
Two more hours passed before the door of Tseng's bedroom cracked open to admit a faint stream of light from the hallway. Reno stood there in seeming indecision and Tseng slowly relaxed his grip upon the trigger of the handgun he kept under his pillow, beckoning him to approach. The redhead's shaky breathing was the only indication of his distress as he slipped into the bed beside the Turk. Tseng extended one arm; wrapping it about the slender waist to draw him close.  
  
The concepts of kindness and caring among Turks sometimes took strange forms, but apparently Reno had already experienced enough in Tseng's company to let him know there was somewhere he could trust as his safe place. A deep, shuddering sigh was his only response before Reno at last gave into his exhaustion and within moments he was asleep.  
  
Rude came in shortly thereafter; moving through the apartment with the innate quiet of his nature and respect for the lateness of the hour. When the bedroom door opened on silent hinges and the bald Turk saw who occupied his usual place in their bed, he merely smiled; moving to look upon the child whose hair was splayed upon the pillow in a brilliant explosion. He then claimed a kiss from his partner before signaling he would be occupying the guestroom in Reno's stead that night.  
  
Tseng himself lay awake long after; thinking upon the nature of fear and soothing Reno's inevitable nightmares. It was a feeling with which Tseng had been very familiar as a child; before he found his own place of belonging. And yet there were nights when the past still intruded. As such, Reno's fear was a secret Tseng would keep for a lifetime.  
  
  
The next morning Tseng took Reno shopping; saddened when Reno asked him if these nice new things were actually his and did he have to share them with anyone? In so many ways, the redhead seemed a child, but the bright eyes gave the lie to this supposition. There was age there; the kind no child should have known existed.   
  
But later, Reno's excitement as they rode the glass elevator to where it opened onto the roof of the ShinRa building was what made Tseng certain Reno would become a Turk. His intelligent, wide-eyed gaze fastened upon the sleek black chopper resting there; even to the temporary exclusion of the view around them.  
  
"Is this what I saw last night?" Reno asked, his hopeful glance darting to Tseng before being captured once again by the elegant little craft.  
  
"It is indeed," Tseng replied and was rewarded by the first true smile he'd seen upon Reno's face, a smile that soon widened to a grin.  
  
When Tseng walked to the craft, beckoning him closer, Reno's excitement was almost a living thing and a barrage of questions soon followed. The Turk would soon realize that very little escaped Reno's notice; he wanted to know the how-and-why-and-what of anything which captured his interest. Rude's fabled calm would be put to the test, Tseng mused, thinking ahead to the time he would pair Reno's restless energy with the big Costan's patient silence. They will balance well, he concluded, nursing his plans for the future. And so it was that on a windy rooftop, Reno took his first step into the world of the Turks.  
  
In later years, Reno would recall the memory fondly; naming it as the day Tseng had given him the sky.  
  
But Reno's transition did not come easily, in spite of these promising beginnings.

  
For the first few months, it had been almost like living with a wild animal at times. Reno would disappear for days, but he always came back. When the need to flee was spent, there always seemed to be a familiar blue suit nearby. That the person wearing it had been there for the express purpose of keeping watch over him was something Reno would only realize after much time had passed. The Turk simply took him home and this was all that mattered. Nor were there ever any recriminations when he did return; life simply went on as if he had never been gone. Eventually, the episodes became fewer and further between.  
  
But one night, everything finally coalesced as Reno lay in his bed listening to the soft sounds coming from the room next door; something that seemed to bring the full weight of his terrible loneliness and confusion crashing down upon him. Tears soaked his pillow, until at last his misery drove him to slip quietly into Tseng and Rude's room. Occupied as they were, they had not noticed him until Reno tried to join them.   
  
Instead of punishing him for interrupting them, Reno had been drawn onto the bed to lie between them, where the two quietly explained that children were not meant to participate in such things and finally the dam was broken. All through the long night, they held Reno and comforted him as he raged and cried through the pain of the past.  
  
Reno never ran away again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of a multi-chapter work, but will be posted at present as a stand alone- though it still counts as a prequel relating Reno's backstory. The larger work it is a part of was originally posted as 'Feed the Rain', but it has been so long in the works (begun in 2011) that another writer adopted the title. For reference's sake, the new title I will be using for this series is 'Event Horizon'.   
> Thank you always for reading! Feedback is always tremendously appreciated, I do enjoy hearing from you!


End file.
